


And began to speak

by extemporally (hidebehindtrees)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always the Opposite Sex, Cunnilingus, F/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-17
Updated: 2012-08-17
Packaged: 2017-11-12 08:24:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/488743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hidebehindtrees/pseuds/extemporally
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam tells Zayn she'd like it a little rougher, please. Written for <a href="http://catchmelike.livejournal.com/1656625.html?thread=12950577#t12950577">this prompt</a> on the Girl Direction Fic Fest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And began to speak

The first thing Zayn always does after pulling out is kiss her on the lips and say, "All right?"

"Yeah," Liam nods. She suspects she's got a goofy grin on her face but she can't stop beaming. She returns the kiss and slips her tongue into his mouth, and then pulls back and lets Zayn reach for the cigarette he left on the side table. That and the cheap orange lighter. 

That is also a thing. 

Liam hears the faint snick of the lighter and then Zayn settles back next to her, a warm and heavy weight, his arm slung loose around her. The afternoon sunlight pouring into their room at the Hilton itself feels shivery, heedless of the drapes, and Liam can't ignore the wit and sleepily satisfied zing through her blood. The boys call her 'Hermione' because she's always worrying about something, but today - hold the phone, ladies and gents - she's happy. Happy enough to ignore the tar building up into her lungs from secondhand smoke, because all things considered she'd rather have Zayn next to her in bed with his lips wrapped around a cigarette than away. The first couple of times they hooked up he always wandered onto the balcony, if they had one, until Liam had figured it out and asked him to stay.

He'd stayed.

"How long have we got?" Zayn asks. 

"Three hours," Liam says. She watches the lit orange end of his nicotine stick and places her hand on his thigh; the muscle there jumps, a little, despite the fact that they're both very much naked, and Liam tries not to smile at that. "You want to go again?"

"I don't know if I can," Zayn says, smiling at her, but he places his free hand over hers on his thigh. Liam should be used to this, by now. This is the fifth time they've had sex, and now they're at the stage where she's fairly sure it's going to stay a repeated thing she's nearly stopped recounting every precious encounter, stacking up the memories like gold coins. Still, it does strange things to her insides. "But I can help you."

Liam can't stop the little snort that escapes her. Zayn raises his eyebrows. "Sure," she says, giggling a little. "You can definitely 'help' me."

Ever so casually, Zayn quirks the side of his mouth like he's a young wannabe trying it on for the first time all over again, then casually stubs his cigarette out on the headboard ("Zayn!" Liam says reproachfully) and throws it on the floor. "I'd love to help," he says, and touches her shoulders, passes a long kiss to her that tastes of smoke and come and himself, and pushes his way down her body, kissing the inside of each thigh and hitching them over his shoulders.

\---

Zayn left a bruise.

Liam doesn't notice it until the next day, when she's getting out of the shower. It's a small bruise on her right breast, purple, but when she presses on it hurts in a tender sort of way, and it makes her smile. Zayn's careful not to leave hickeys where they can be seen in public, and even this is cutting it sort of close. Liam doesn't wear low-cut tops but she could, and if she did, this bruise would show.

"Hey," Zayn says when she meets the boys for breakfast. 

"Morning," she says brightly to everyone, and reaches down to whisper in Zayn's ear. "You left a bruise."

"What did you say?" Niall says, watching her keenly.

"Nothing," Liam says lightly, as she sits down. "Best bro stuff."

"You're like the opposite of a bro," Harry says. 

"No she's not," Niall says, "she's my bro," and it becomes a huge debate about the qualities of a bro, which Liam may or may not possess. Liam doesn't bother to hide her grin as she reaches for the teapot. This is too easy.

No one notices, even, that Zayn's ears are bright red and he looks turned on or confused; either one or the two. _Sorry_ , he mouths to Liam across the table. Somehow, that wasn't quite the reaction she wanted.

 _It's fine_ , she mouths back. 

\---

It's so stupid, but for the rest of the day Liam misses Zayn with a keen, fierce hunger that feels more like actual hunger than hunger can say. Even though they're all together through the radio interview and the presser and at lunch Zayn sits next to her, pressing his thigh against hers under the table, it just makes Liam want more. These little touches, the kind she and the boys are used to giving out freely, take on a new significance when passed between her and Zayn, a kind of shorthand for all the things she wants to do to him. Be done to her. 

They haven't told the boys yet, but she knows that is brewing on the horizon. It's just their little secret for now, and it is a little selfish, but Liam likes being selfish for now.

"Vassar?" Zayn says, catching up with her in the corridor as they file out the studio after the interview, grinning in that easy, graceful way he has. _Vassar_ is a new thing he's taken to saying recently, a corruption of _Vassup_ which came from _Vas happening_ , and it's already starting to catch on despite Harry's best efforts ("Seriously, Zayn, stop trying to make 'vassar' happening.")

"You are," Liam ripostes uselessly, and grins too. This is new, the stupid exchanges they have, the kind that don't sing with any kind of wit, the kind Louis would tear apart ferociously if he overheard, but Liam likes it, the idea that they don't have to impress each other.

"I am," he agrees, and the sleeve of his leather jacket brushes her bare arm. "Listen - I'm sorry for bruising you."

Surprised, Liam lifts her eyes. "Don't be," she says, "I liked it."

Zayn looks surprised, and he's going to say something, or she is, except Louis is calling ahead, "Ey, wait up, lovebirds!" even though he doesn't know a thing about the two of them, and takes a running leap to launch himself on Zayn's back. For a split second Liam wishes Zayn would throw Louis off his back, but he takes the weight well, staggers around directionlessly for a while before Louis tumbles off anyway.

"No more'n you deserve," Liam tells him spitefully.

"You were going too fast," Louis pouts at them, from the ground.

\---

It's a whole three days before they get to sneak away again, unless you count the day before yesterday when they accidentally-on-purpose wandered into a supply closet in some nameless building where they were doing another interview and made out for like three minutes before Zayn got a plaintive text from Harry that said _where are u?_ and had to pull away with what he swears were blue balls, literally violet, and Liam was equally frustrated, which is why she doesn't count the day before yesterday.

This time they have a hotel room again, and an entire night to themselves. The confluence of the two doesn't often happen and Liam doesn't think she'll ever get sick of it. 

Liam feels something lift in her heart when the door clicks behind them and Zayn turns to her, his face shadowed by the paper lantern hanging from the ceiling, and says, "Hey." He takes her hands in his and kisses her, a long perfect moment.

Liam's been itching the whole day and she surges forward recklessly, kissing back with all the restless desperate pent-up energy she has, with Zayn's face in between his hand, lust slaking her. Startled, Zayn's hands go up to her waist and he holds her there, but he kisses back. 

It becomes a Thing that involves tongue, maybe, and spit. It's warm and messy and chaotic, and nameless feelings sweep over Liam. She clings to Zayn, who steadies her like an anchor in a storm at sea, and they kiss till her lips feel swollen. 

When she pulls away Zayn's eyes have darkened, and he's staring at her like he'd like to swallow her up. "Um," Liam says, "Hi?" and reaches over to seize the lapels of his leather jacket again, and while they're kissing frantically Zayn shrugs his leather jacket off and drops it to the floor, and underneath he's wearing the grey t-shirt, the one that's worn and Liam's favourite, and underneath that she can feel the bulk of his muscle. His belt is pushing against her belly and he's half-hard. Liam's never been the delicate type, and she doesn't even know if she can, but she wants to be held up against several walls by Zayn and wants to climb him like a tree. 

Zayn's hands are skimming the hem of her flippy tennis skirt and moving north; Liam parts her legs ever so slightly so as to not lose her balance and holds her breath as his callused fingers graze the material of her panties. She's wet already, and it mists the cotton stretching over her crotch. Zayn just holds his fingers there without pressing, and without knowing it Liam keens and urges her pelvis down, desperate for some pressure and _touch_. 

Miracle of miracles - Zayn's responding to her unspoken need for force and speed and pushes - well, nudges - her into the wall, scraping his barely-there stubble against her face like he doesn't give a damn for once about beard burn or the whole world potentially knowing, sucking a line of kisses down her neck and biting on her shoulder. Liam is gone at this point, she's absolutely gone. She's never told Zayn but she's pretty sure Zayn knows that being kissed on her neck just does it for her, and she hooks a leg around Zayn's waist, still clad in jeans, as he presses his hips forward again, and again, and again.

Zayn pulls back and Liam whimpers involuntarily. He presses his forehead to hers and his breath is coming out raggedly. "We need to slow down," he whispers hoarsely. Liam thinks, _I did that_ , and her fingers tighten around his hips. "We need to... slow. We need to slow."

"Once you've had sex there's no going back," Liam says, half-seriously and half in jest.

Zayn smiles a little and catches her face in his. "Wouldn't you rather have sex on the bed?" he asks.

"Right now?" Liam says. "No." She can't stop her words now, not when Zayn is looking at her like that and they're both still fully-dressed but Liam is absolutely desperate for it; she feels like 'those girls' she was warned against being when she was growing up and she doesn't believe that 'those girls' actually exist now, of course, but if they did she'd want to be one of them. "I want to have sex standing up, Zayn, I want you to fuck me, _now_ , and I want you to give it to me. Hard."

It sounds kind of cheesy when Liam's saying them, even with utter conviction, but whatever, it works, Zayn growls and surges forward and darts his hands underneath her skirt to pull her pants down. She steps out of them and tugs her t-shirt off, as does Zayn. He pulls a condom out of his back pocket (he'd stowed it there waiting, wanting, Liam realises) and undoes his belt with fumbling fingers as she leans against the wall, still in her bra and skirt rucked up around her waist, and waits. 

Liam helps Zayn put the condom on, smoothing it over him and stroking back up with a loosely curled fist, twisting it when she reaches the tip the way he likes it, and pulls him in.

"Just how hard do you want it?" Zayn says as he hovers over her, uncertain, ever tender and hesitant, biting on his lower lip. 

" _Hard_ ," Liam says. She doesn't actually know either, to be honest, but she's no porcelain doll, and she doesn't actually think anyone could break from rough sex.

"Are you -"

"Zayn, just _do_ it," Liam growls, and curls a leg around Zayn's waist, pulling him to her and into her that way, and Zayn thrusts, hard, involuntarily at first, and then shakily, with more intent. 

"Harder," Liam breathes into his ear as her thighs tremble from the strain of keeping her balance. "Zayn, you're not hurting me, I promise."

She grabs his ass and pulls him further into him; the world has narrowed into this tiny sphere they've created, and she feels him moving into her and out in a waving pattern, all around. Liam gives as good as she gets, too, rocking against Zayn, desperate for more friction. 

"Zayn," she murmurs, steadying herself. Zayn raises his head and looks straight at her, and for a second it becomes so intense she can't even breathe. The moment passes. 

"Liam," he says.

"Harder."

Zayn redoubles his efforts, throwing his back into it like she wanted all along, and places his arms under both her thighs. Zayn hefts her up so he's carrying the weight of her on the inside of his forearms and thrusts into her again. Liam's surprised at that - she had to get used, pretty early on, to the idea that she was basically never going to be small or delicate or anything close to resembling the very model of femininity, and she's proud of the arms and thighs she has from hours of working out. A couple of months ago, though, she had the worst trouble trying to open a pickle jar by herself and had to ask Zayn to help her out eventually; he'd twisted the sucker open like it wasn't worth a moment's trouble. Liam was so surprised she'd blinked and said, "Oh, that's not fair!" before remembering to thank him properly. Zayn had shrugged and said it was no problem, and Liam doesn't know why she's thinking about that pickle jar right now or why it's flooding her insides with equal amounts of heat and fondness even as she strains against him, strung tight as a fiddle but essentially helpless as Zayn holds her up, struggling a little, maybe, but no less enthusiastic in the rhythm of his fucking for that.

Liam pulls at Zayn's hair. She can't stop touching him now - can't stop wanting to touch him, whether it's messing up that bad-boy quiff he spends twenty minutes styling in front of assorted mirrors every day or raking her uselessly short nails down his back, which elicit little sounds of _ah, ah, ah_ from him. She loves this feeling of being fucked so much, taking Zayn into her body and swallowing him whole and being split apart in return. She gets so lost in it that it's a surprise, even though all the signs were there, when Zayn stiffens and lets out a naked gasp and presses against her, and Liam closes her eyes and wishes it was even remotely a good idea to have sex without a condom just so she could feel him coming inside of her, no barrier between the both of them. 

Liam can taste the salty tang of sweat on his neck as he releases her gently, his muscles shaking with the strain. 

"Did you?" he asks her.

"No," Liam says. It's fine, actually more than fine, but he leads her over to the bed and makes her lie down before pushing her thighs apart and getting her off with his tongue, concentrating on her clit in the steady rhythm he'd been so good at keeping up for about ten minutes until Liam can feel it building up inside of her and presses forward against his face, and when she comes it's with an explosive shout.

Zayn presses his head in between her breasts and gropes for his jacket on the floor; he finds it eventually and retrieves the customary cigarette and lighter. He kisses her on the forehead.

"All right?"

"Yeah," Liam says. "I'm very. All right." Zayn lights up. "Thank you."

Zayn looks surprised, just like he had when she'd thanked him after he opened the jar for her. She doesn't even remember now whether she had a raging crush on him back then; it seems now to her that she's always been a little in love with him. This beautiful boy with his eyes and hands and gentleness. Her best friend. Zayn. "It's all my pleasure."

"I want to -" Liam says suddenly, breaking off on a sudden yawn. "I think I want to tell them."

"The lads?" Zayn asks. He already knows.

"Yeah," Liam says. She's liked sneaking around and she's liked having this secret, because it's been such a precious thing to hold close, but now she's in the mood for sharing. She wants the band to know. "We can have a band meeting." Already she's starting to plan it.

Zayn seems to read her mind and snuggles close to her as he inhales the last of the cigarette. "No worries," he tells her. "I'm sure they'll be all right."

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "The First Five Times", by Stars. Thanks to mah boo forochel for enabling. ♥


End file.
